Bled Dry
by dustywalker
Summary: Many rumours and tall tales emerged about the disappearances of the Hero of Ferelden and Kirkwall's Champion... as with most events surrounding the famous pair, the truth was much more mundane. M for language.
1. Wide Open Road

_A/N - Had a Christmas plot bunny bite me, and refuse to let go.. so here's my attempt at a simple explanation why **a** Warden might have vanished._

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><p><em><strong>Vigil's Keep, 9:40<strong>_

Strapping on his boots, Darrian sat upright with a groan. After a quick glance at the table, to check it was still orderly, he slowly stood. Circling the thick desk, he slowly examined the various items that hung on the wall. A large sword-rack drew his attention first, as the Elf lightly touched each weapon in order. Pausing upon a dull, long-unused longsword, his memory trailed back.

_The sword Duncan lent me, back before everything… I wonder, old man; did you _intend_ for me to get into such a mess, when you sent us off to the Estate instead of going to the City Guard? Would you _really _have helped me reach the Dalish, if the Arl's garrison hadn't swung into action? You finally got your hands on a Tabris recruit, though… I expect that made everything worth it._

Taking down the next two blades, he carefully slung a shimmering blue sword over his shoulder.

_Starfang… I still have no damned idea where you came from, but I like to think there's a reason I found you. _

Attaching the other to his belt, he smiled.

_Don't worry, Fang – I couldn't take your namesake without the original. What would my mother think?_

Glancing at the empty final hook, he shook his head.

_Vigilance… I'm not sure why Zev 'borrowed' you, but I expect you probably reek of some Antivan tannery by now. _

Lifting a gilded box from the desk, he gave it a quick shake before opening the lid. Pushing aside his Joining amulet, he stared at two rings.

_Another keepsake from my old life… last I heard from Soris, he had run into Nesiara, after settling his family in Highever. They're both expecting children again, apparently._

_Then there's __**her**_ _ring…_

Carefully running a finger over the ring, Darrian felt nothing but cold metal before closing the lid.

_She must have disabled the connection, after going through the portal… I wouldn't be the means to her end, so there's nothing to be gained from keeping it open. Gotta stick to that bullshit Flemeth taught her, I suppose._

Sighing, he moved over to look at a large portrait. Several figures stood in front of the Palace, weary but smiling.

_Leliana… who would have Morrigan would turn out to be more truthful than you? All your rambling about love, you actually made me think you'd be the one. Whatever we had, it wasn't enough to make you stay. The Guardian was right… when the glory was all over, you always found some new important cause to champion. Studying the mountain temple, reporting to the Revered Mother, helping that bitch Dorothea bribe and coerce her way to becoming the Divine. Even that wasn't enough for her… you left again to become her pet spy. Yet I was somehow in the wrong to say she was dragging you back into your old life. I guess I _was _wrong – wrong to think you cared._

_Sten – at least you were honest about the fact you wouldn't stay. I hope you're doing well._

_Zev… despite everything, you were mostly honest. Especially when it counted... thank you for the warning, and good hunting, my friend._

_Shale… I think you're in Orlais now. It sounds like Wynne dragged you everywhere _but _Tevinter._

_Wynne. I suppose I'm not surprised you told Shale a bunch of crap, so she'd follow you about. With your personality, you needed a gigantic conversation piece…_

_Oghren… I'm still convinced you fell asleep while the artist was working. Or did you always lean on your axe, like that? _

Smiling, he turned back to the desk. Triple-checking the small stack of letters were visible, Darrian nodded to himself.

_There's one for you, too. It says everything I know you'd never let me say in front of people… too bad, comrade. You'll probably need Felsi to read it for you. _

His smile faded as he turned to a portrait of another couple.

_Alistair… all your talk ended up worthless, in the end. Was I really supposed to ignore the advice of the one experienced Warden who emerged to help us? Hell, you didn't even believe me about what it took to kill the Archdemon until the Orlesians finally arrived and spelled it out for you. Your hero Duncan never cared about you enough to let you know anything _important_, did he?_

_At least Anora somehow keeps your stupidity evened out. I don't know how she convinced you to make Teagan the Chancellor over his brother, but thankfully she did. Maybe she drilled it into your thick skull that Eamon never gave a damn about you… _

_It's weird – I sent her father to his death, and she's the only person who forgave me over the whole thing. You're still crying that he tarnished the glory of the Wardens, even though you would have left anyway to take the throne… or is it that he died a hero again? The Humans, the ones who forgot everything he did during the Blight, think I should have died in his place. Most of the Alienage blame me for him becoming a hero again, and washing away what he did to them._

_You and Loghain were both self-absorbed idiots, you know that? The few times I tried talking to him in camp, apart from once when we talked about Anora, he kept claiming everything he did was for the best… but at least he _took_ responsibility. That's a point he had over you. Still, I finally exploded at him one night on the road to Redcliffe._

_"Look, you stupid bastard! The Tower was full of Darkspawn, so yes, the beacon was late! If the signal for the beacon was big enough for us to spot it, up that high, you would easily have seen it on the ground as well. You didn't need __**two**_ _fucking signals to charge!"_

_He furrowed his fat Ogre brow at that, before scratching his head. Kept saying it was still all Duncan's fault, which made me keep going. _

_"Maybe __**you **__should have asserted your authority, as the High General! Did you back Duncan up, when he tried using the Archdemon to scare Cailan into staying off the field? Nope, you took the chance to remind everyone you didn't think it was a Blight. Because you somehow knew better than the Wardens. Did you tell that Chantry hag to shut up, and leave the War Council to the warriors? Even if the battle was lost, maybe an early signal by that Mage who tried volunteering would have allowed you to save more of the army! _

_"Even __**Cailan **__unwittingly gave you an opportunity to delay things, and properly assess the threat! But no, that would have involved Orlesians, and you're obsessed with a war you _won _thirty years ago!"_

_He tried telling me I clearly knew nothing about it, since I kept allowing 'that red-haired tart' into my tent… okay, turns out he had a point about her, but when he followed up with some more of his thunder about how he _single-handedly_ beat back the Emperor, I had to fire back._

_"If the Orlesians _really_ want another war, guess what? They'll have been studying your tactics for _decades_, and you've become so inflexible that you stood about confused when a beacon was late! I wouldn't pick you to defend a manure pile! Uldred, Howe, everyone who sided with you was obviously insane… is that perhaps a hint that maybe your actions the last year haven't been very smart? I don't even know why I've bothered, trying to save a country that didn't blink twice when I mentioned your slave-trading to the Landsmeet!"_

_I don't even know if it was him at that point… or every self-serving, useless moron we met across the country that I was ranting at. After a moment, he just stared at me oddly and said I was learning what it meant to be a Hero._

_It took me a while, but I know _exactly _what he meant. _

_"Tell me, Warden… do you mourn those men you killed, on your way to find Vaughan? Or did you do what you had to?" he asked._

_"They left me no choice… I knocked out the first one we came across, before realising we'd have to come back the same way and deal with him again." _

_ "If we include the cook who was found dead as well, you're responsible for fourteen children who no longer have their fathers. I checked their records. Was that worth it?"_

_"I don't know… I dealt with what was in front of me."_

_"_Everything_ has repercussions, boy. There's rarely a pleasant answer, if you follow all the results to the end. Men like us, we get stuck with the hard decisions – if we're lucky, people will forget what we had to do."_

_"If we're unlucky?"_

_"… They give us a pretty title or two, and write songs. The troops are already whispering behind your back about the Hero of Ferelden, I'm afraid. They'll be singing about you, long after they forget about our new King. I think you're up to the burden, but watch your back."_

_He gave an empty smile, scratched Blargha behind the ears, and walked away to check on the scouting reports. We didn't speak again until the battle was under way. The old bear faced his end with pride, I'll give him that. _

_Meanwhile you ran away to your Castle to sulk… even when the Mother rose up, and they killed most of the Wardens, you wouldn't lift a finger to help._

_No, I had to handle everything… on top of Howe's former lackeys wanting me dead, and a Teyrn who resented my very presence. Whatever possessed you into thinking that giving away a chunk of the country to the Wardens was a good idea? If it was just about burdening me with politics, I'd have been given some place small, like Lothering… Nate thinks you wanted to undermine Cousland's strength, in case the sympathetic members of the Landsmeet started wondering if he'd be a better monarch. Or perhaps you wanted to force his hand into an ill-prepared push for the throne, so he'd retreat in disgrace and never worry you again. It sounds like something Eamon would have whispered in your ear, before Anora ordered him back to Redcliffe "to concentrate upon rebuilding the damage inflicted by the Darkspawn and undead." Clever girl…_

_Where was I… the Mother, right. Because some things never change, I was facing down a Darkspawn threat with only a small group of lunatics by my side, while the man on the Throne apparently wished I would just die.  
><em>

_Well, I solved yet another impossible problem, didn't I? Unless you ask Velanna… add her to the list of people who vowed to never forgive me._

_It's funny; Nate and Anora can move past the fact I killed their fathers, one way or another, but I never hear the end of anything else. Not letting Oghren go back to Kirkwall with Nate after the first time, when he drunk a tavern so dry that they apparently put his portrait up on the wall. Even telling Anders to stop bringing that stupid cat on patrol earned me a fortnight of whining… you'd think I forced him to give it away, by his over-reaction._

_Speaking of Anders… remember that damned Templar you helped the Chantry force upon us? Couldn't even mask the fact you did that mostly out of spite – "I seem to remember you aren't picky about recruits… traitors, slavers, regicidal murderers and things like that?" Congratulations, __**you fucking idiot!**__ I get back from Amgarrak, to find that Templar bastard and his 'former' colleagues created an even bigger shit-storm back at the Keep. Several people dead, and no sign of Anders… _

_Not until Nate returned from Kirkwall two years ago, in a panic, and told me what happened. "Everything has repercussions" … and look at what your moronic jab led to! Maker only knows how many people were inside that Chantry, then the rest of Kirkwall took serious damage in the battle after... and now the Circles have begun open rebellions!_

_I'm not fixing things for you this time… I'm so tired of being expected to. I seriously doubt there even_ **is **_a solution, to be honest. I'm done. I only regret that I can't stay, to see if my disappearance makes your head explode._

With a final look around the office, Darrian grabbed his backpack and headed for the staircase. Creeping through the dimly-lit main hall, he jumped as a loud cough sounded from the doorway.

"A bit late for you to be awake, ain't it?" a gruff voice asked.

_Shit… _"Good evening, Oghren. I thought I gave you and Nate leave to visit your families."

"Aye, ya did. I decided to wait a few days first."

"So… you just hung back for no reason? Have they sighted a nest of schleets on the road again?"

"Oh, you're funny… so tell me something. The Antivan visits out of the blue, with dire news about Mages and the Chantry, and says your old lady is probably coming to drag you into their mess. You're too busy holed up in your study to even chase him down for stealing that fancy blade of yours... a week later, you suddenly give away furloughs like stale beer—"

Appearing out of a corner, Sigrun walked over. "Then there's the night-watch roster, which you allotted so that only the younger billeted soldiers are on duty this week. Seemed to us like you were planning something… and here you are, skulking around in the middle of the night."

"I'm leaving, Sig… I can't do this anymore."

"We thought as much… I'm guessing you left notes for everyone."

"Everyone who needs one… and one for a certain red-headed Seeker, if she comes sniffing around."

"I'll see they're handed out" Oghren nodded.

"Oghren…"

"No need to say it – your eyes were empty and staring long **before** Elf Number 2 came poncing around and told us about the mess in Orlais. Everything you've done for everyone, I don't blame ya for needing to get away… I know you'll come back, one soldier to another, but don't rush it."

"I expect it'll be a few years, at least. I'll find someplace where I can't get dragged into this mess."

"The royal nug-licker will have a fit… gives me a good excuse to kick him in the stones and remind him about Warden neutralness. He also needs a reminder about the word 'gratitude'."

"Thanks… I'm glad you stuck around all these years, you know."

Shifting uncomfortably, Oghren shrugged. "Someone had to… aw, spit, Co… _Darrian_, go already, would ya! Give some other joker a chance to save the world for once!"

Smiling, Darrian nodded. "Alright… give my apologies to Nate. I would have told him, but-"

"_The less we know, the less people will come around for information_… the three of us talked about it last night, we understand. Now, get going before you get spotted."

"Right… give my love to Felsi and Nugget."

Sniggering, Oghren lightly pushed open the door. "Felsi gets enough loving from ol' Oghren, she doesn't need yours!"

Suppressing a laugh, Darrian patted the Dwarf's shoulder as he stepped into the night. Hearing the door click shut, he turned to peer around… before being nudged in the rib. Looking back, he noticed Sigrun next to him. She made a gesture across her lips, and pointed to the second stable-house. Stealthily crossing the grounds, he spared a glance at a pile of rocks underneath one of the trees.

_So long, Blargha… if only you could have come with me, boy. I hope you're chasing rabbits in the Fade.  
><em>

Once inside the stables, Sigrun pulled a pack out from a straw-pile. "Like we said, we suspected something was going on… did you think we'd let you vanish, on your own?"

Bringing out two horses, already saddled, Darrian grinned. "I expected _you_ would put it together… so I asked Samuel to prepare an extra horse before he turned in for the night. If you're sure, that is?"

"What, let you have a non-Darkspawn adventure all by yourself? Over my dead body!"

"Always with the death…" he muttered

"I stick to what I know, Commander. Besides, someone needs to have your back."

"Hmm… I appreciate your help, if not the vote of confidence. But let's leave the titles here, please?"

"You got it, Darry. What's the plan?"

"_Darry_? Fine, have it your way… _Siggy_. I've got a ship, in Amaranthine port. They'll get us across the Waking Sea, and then we can go anywhere… maybe Nevarra. We can find some you some spicy Nevarran renegade, see if the books match reality?"

"… Promises, promises" she wistfully sighed.

"Well then… let's go see where the wind takes us, my friend."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Denerim, months later<em>**

Subtly raising her hand, Anora waved Cauthrein back from approaching Oghren. Glowering, the Dwarf snarled as he looked down at Alistair, sprawled on the throne-room floor in pain. "For the last time, we don't soddin' know where he went! Until we hear otherwise from Weisshaupt, Pretty-Boy Howe still has acting command... and he can easily have you dragged back into service, should he decide your intrusion into Warden business means you've rethought leaving the Order." With a polite bow to the Queen, and a sneer at the two Seekers, he marched from the room.

Motioning the guards to help Alistair up, Anora sat forward in her chair. "Well... you certainly could have handled that better, _husband_."

Groaning, he staggered over to the throne and sat. "I forgot how fast he can actually kick..." Turning to Cassandra, he shrugged. "So much for that... didn't you learn anything, in the Marches?"

"Very little, it seems. A merchant in Ostwick _may _have seen them... he was visited by a female Dwarf, calling herself Lady Shiston Deshyr, of House Legion. She and a black-haired elf, who appeared to be her servant, purchased two steeds and left the city. Their trail went cold after that, so we proceeded to Kirkwall. After dealing with _another _troublesome Dwarf, we had no luck locating the Champion either."

Snorting, the King inelegantly scratched his head. "Apart from learning some new insults, Darrian's note didn't give me anything... Leliana, did he tell you anything?"

Shaking her head, she looked up regretfully. "Just old bitterness..."

Cassandra frowned, "It's hardly your fault... the Divine hardly expected him to become important again, else she would have had you resume _monitoring _Tabris."

Mentally rolling her eyes at the three of them, Anora listened to their griping until the Seekers finally took their leave. "Well, that was all very... draining" Alistair yawned, "so I think I shall retire."

Nodding, the Queen remained seated. "General Cauthrein, please assign someone to be sure the Seekers, _and_ Warden Kondrat, depart the city tomorrow. I don't wish to hear of their presence causing tensions with the populace."

"As my Queen commands."

"... Alistair, do go and see the physician about your possible _injury_" Anora called out, watching him limp away. "Lest your uncle begin worrying again about more heirs."

"... Right, good point. Hopefully he hasn't been asleep too long" he winced, changing direction.

Once the room had cleared, she glanced up at an empty viewing box. "That'll stop him noticing my lateness to bed" she seemingly muttered to herself, before Zevran appeared from the shadows. Silently dropping down, he smirked. "You'll pass the relevant information along to our wandering friend?" Anora asked, handing over a letter.

"_Si_, dear Queen. Luckily for the good traveller, that dour-faced Seeker never imagined to seek her quarry a little closer to home. Perhaps it is because Dragon-Hunters never need to learn proper tracking since their prey is hardly subtle, but still, she never stood a chance finding someone _I _trained..."

Sighing, Anora silenced him with a fixed look. "Speaking as the daughter of an old tracker, I'd agree about her... do enjoy the northern weather, then. Since we're making supposedly subtle comments about where you're heading next."

"No taste for flair, you Fereldans... as you command, then. I shall take my leave, and keep an eye upon _you-know-who_."


	2. What have we here?

_**A/N - my nice little one-shot began bugging me with the idea for another chapter, and Morrigan's perspective on things, so here it is. (Possible light spoilers for Asunder?)  
><strong>_

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><p><strong>Val Royeaux, 9:40<strong>

Darting down an alley-way, the man caught his breath while glancing back and forward. Leaning back against the wall, he groaned. '_Blasted traitors_…' About to put away his dagger, he heard a faint tap as someone shifted their weight on the rooftop behind him. Knocked on the ground by the pursuer, the dazed man struggled to reach his blade while wrapping his other hand around his assailant's throat. "Ah yes, you're that little bitch they call the Nightingale… _bonne nuit_" he taunted as he lifted the weapon.

Slamming a knee into the man's ribs, Leliana pulled back and drove a knife into his throat. Panting, she slowly crawled over to search her victim's pockets. Distracted with the task, she failed to notice the presence of a new arrival.

"Well, well… what have we here?"

'_Damn it!' _"He… he tried to – to force himself…" she stammered, choking out a broken sob.

"Indeed? That would have been quite impressive, then, seeing as how you were on top the entire time. Perhaps that is just one of your foul little habits?"

"… I-" '_Impossible_…' Glancing at the shadowed figure, she frowned. "_Morrigan_?"

"Just finish **whatever** you were doing with his pants, and hurry up – I daresay his friends will soon realise he's overdue."

Tipping the body into a sewer opening, she slowly stood. "_Au revoir_, Ser Renard."

"Are you quite done, defiling renegade Templars? 'Tis beastly cold tonight and I've little patience for such games."

"Pleased to see you too, _chipie_" Leliana spat.

"I see your sloppiness has put you in quite a mood" Morrigan replied dismissively. "My estate is much closer than the Cathedral, are you coming or not?"

"**Fine**… lead on."

* * *

><p>As they passed through a side-entrance, Morrigan noticed her servant looking up and down at Leliana's tattered attire in horror while bolting the door behind them, which caused her to smirk. "I did not realise the peasant look was coming into fashion…"<p>

Glaring at the Witch's violet gown in proper light, she replied "And you've abandoned your claim to practicality… or have we swapped tastes?"

"Hmm… true, I suppose your little potato sack _would_ curtail the creaks from belts and buttons."

"It hides certain equipment, as well" the Bard pointed out.

"Indeed… no doubt you have something fancier for social assignments" Morrigan mused, waving away the curious servant.

"No doubt" she agreed. "So – let's get to the point, yes? I assume you sought me out for a favour."

Morrigan simply laughed in response. "I would hardly seek _your _help, if I was in trouble. I was enjoying a quiet flight above the city, when I caught sight of you and your quarry. Since circumstance permitted it, I decided we should catch up on old times… and things yet to pass."

"Such good times we shared, after all" Leliana voiced mockingly. "Like when you abandoned us all, right before the final battle. I have no idea what you said, before you left, but would you care if I said Darrian was distraught over your departure?"

"He knew my reasons… and we made our peace, when we next met. I imagine _your _abandonment was much crueller, after all your professions of love."

"I **meant **to return! He… he understood our duties couldn't always align."

"Perhaps when you were helping the restoration of Lothering, or the studies of the mountain mausoleum… but staying by _her _side, even after making sure she took most of the credit for the expedition? Credit she bartered to become the Divine, with some extra _needle-work_ by you? What more could you possibly have owed the woman? If it truly mattered, you could have given up the thrills and returned to his side whenever you pleased."

"Times are not so simple… I'm _needed_ here!"

"What of the years between then and now? It seems to me that you prefer being _needed_ to being wanted… but I suppose our friend eventually became used to it. I had to leave, Sten returned home… and so on, until his hound died and only the drunk remained. I give him credit for lasting as long as he did, before vanishing."

"You know about that already?" Leliana asked, following her host into a sitting room.

"When you ride on the winds, one tends to hear things much sooner… and I have the jabbering Crow keep me informed, if need be. 'Twas my idea he should let Darrian know your superiors wished to drag him into more problems that didn't concern him." Pouring two goblets of wine, she took a sip. "He had so much trouble saying 'no' during the Blight… and honestly, what's to come is beyond him."

"You sound quite sure" Leliana muttered, sniffing the offered drink.

"8:79 Val Chevin, if you're curious… and I'm indeed sure. What sway do you imagine he could hold over the Circle? Or are you expecting whichever puffed-up fool took up Lambert's sword will deign to listen to a _Fereldan Elf_? I assume you were really told to seek him out, in a feeble hope he might somehow discourage the fury stirring in the Alienages… this Hawke people speak of, being a Human, was most likely whom your Divine truly wished to use as a tool against the Chantry schism. Provided she were fool enough to get involved, after dealing with the matter for so long in Kirkwall." Sighing, Morrigan sat down and motioned Leliana towards a nearby chair. "Sadly, our Warden friend might actually have made a difference… very early on. Until that… **imbecile** meddled with his authority, out of spite!"

"I assume you mean Alistair… what's he got to do with anything?"

"_Everything_, believe it or not – him and that hypocritical old hag!" Morrigan snarled, draining her goblet. "Because she never had an opinion she didn't voice, she firstly hung about the nearby city… preaching to the Warden Spirit, and the one called Anders. If only she had told the wayward creature to accept that it shouldn't be in our world… but she had to spout endless garbage about how it '_must be here for a noble purpose_', while berating the Mage for not doing more with his freedom. Then the Templars and the moron forced Darrian to admit a 'former' Templar into his ranks… who tried killing them, the second he had a chance, and forced them to run away to Kirkwall. **BOOM!**" she shouted, waving her hands in an outward pattern. "All because of the nuisance and the idiot!"

"That's… drawing a _lengthy_ connection of events" Leliana frowned.

"Oh, there's more" Morrigan replied. "The woman _you_ helped to power, meanwhile, had Wynne meddling into matters _far_ beyond human understanding. For all her lectures about responsibility, it turns out she had no problem trying to split the Veil and bring monsters into our world. '_Hmm… I wonder what'll happen if I shove a _Pride Demon_ into a Tranquil's head?!_' **Lunacy!**"

Emptying her own drink, Leliana stared at Morrigan in shock. "That's not…"

"Oh, it is! All **three** of you… and to think, Darrian was more worried about my plans. He was probably right, when we met in the Wastes – it would have been a massive beacon to Flemeth. Along with the Darkspawn, and perhaps the Imperium too. 'Tis a peculiar way fate twisted, but the only people who didn't abandon him or create massive problems they expect _him _to solve were the ones he failed."

"What are you talking about? The Imperium?"

"Just thinking… he couldn't help the drunk with his insane wife, but had his loyalty regardless. Also the loyalty of _Howe's_ last son, believe it or not. Zevran keeps watch, between running from his own pursuers… and the poor Queen made sure her 'husband' couldn't find him."

"Anora knows where he is? Why didn't-"

"Because she knows he doesn't want to be found, twit! He's earned a few years of peace before the Calling takes him! How do you not understand this?! If things go bad in Ferelden, he'll come running if he has to, but I hope it doesn't… luckily, Anora has time to bolster her country without Alistair in her way – since the ingrate couldn't get Darrian to fix everything for him yet again, he's gone off on some idiotic search for his dead father instead! Because he'll never grow up and handle his own problems, it would seem."

"He should have told me his worries…" Leliana said quietly.

"All of those times you _weren't _visiting? It's too late to act like you care now… his poor eyes just flickered with pain, at your name, when _I _saw him last – seven years ago!" Smirking, Morrigan refilled both goblets. "If that excitable Dwarf who went with him has her way, he'll soon get over whatever hold you had… I bet he didn't even realise _why_ she insisted on following him, where duty wouldn't forbid them from-"

"**Shut up!**"

"Temper, temper… like everything else, it's your own doing. I imagine he still left a message for you, when he left."

Rubbing her head, Leliana thought back. "A rather cold goodbye and some odd attempt at poetry."

"Poetry?"

"_Weary of supposed friends so craven, I go beyond reach of Crows or Songbirds, I shall make myself a Raven, as I now fly away backwards…_ I thought that meant he went home, or disappeared into some other Alienage-"

"Perhaps he _did_ have some faint wish to see you again, with a hint like that…"

"What hint?"

"_A Raven flying backwards_… 'tis obvious." Getting no reaction, she sighed and walked over to a writing desk. Quickly scratching down one word, she handed it to the confused Seeker. "A Raven, backwards… you understand it now, I hope?"

"_Nevarra_…"

Glaring deep into her eyes, Morrigan leant forward. "… Debating what to do with the knowledge? I admit I have no idea if your sudden appearance, out of guilt, would please or pester him."

"Why do _you_ even care? Doing all of this now, what do you hope to gain?"

"Nothing at all" she shrugged. "As I once told him, however… even if I wasn't worthy of his friendship, I have always valued it. He was… curiously simple, and oftentimes infuriating, but he somehow made that admirable. I… for some reason, _you_ made him happier than I could have…" Wiping her eyes, she sat back down. "But I don't know if that would still be the case, after what you've done. That's even assuming you _would_ walk away from here… love or the mission, weakness or strength; I do not know which of those words to associate with another." Rising again, she scrawled something on another parchment. "So, a test – you can either risk everything, and find a ship heading north, or you take this list to your master and continue being her simple watchdog." Handing it over, her face grew hard. "Be _sure _of whatever choice you make, there will be no turning back… and should I find you again, if you break him; I shan't even bother finding a drain-hole for your corpse. Dawn is almost here – time for you to be going."

Showing Leliana to the front door, Morrigan gave one last look of scrutiny. "This may be obvious, and mutual… but I hope to never see you again" she croaked, before slamming it shut.

* * *

><p>"You intercepted their runner, then?"<p>

"Yes, Your Holiness" Leliana replied, passing a small collection of papers to Justinia. "That was everything he had in his possession. Camp positions, mostly."

"You seem troubled, my dear?" the older woman ventured, watching carefully.

"It… it's nothing. Just thinking about people I once knew."

"The Warden, again? It's a shame we couldn't find him… he might have been a useful weapon indeed."

Swallowing her reaction, Leliana nodded. "Another old… _friend_, perhaps, provided me with this."

Unfurling the scroll, Justinia read it twice in confusion. "'_The Warden is lost to your cause, hopefully he stays that way, and I expect Hawke is not far behind. However… other 'children of destiny' are already active. Adaar, Cadash, Lavellan, Trevelyan. Focus your attentions upon them, instead.'_ Two of these names at the end are familiar… **who **did you say gave you this note?"

"… Nobody important."

"Hrmm… very well. Have Cassandra look into this Adaar… _woman_, and see what she is currently planning."

* * *

><p><em><strong>There we go... considering a Hawke or Alistair chapter, but it probably won't be soon.<strong>_


	3. Cast Reunion

**Warning: Character deaths ahead, next 10 miles.**

* * *

><p><strong>Hunter's Fell, Nevarra. 9:40<strong>

'Another town, another shit-hole tavern…' Carver thought, glancing around the dark street. 'Maybe the name of this place will provide better _hunting_.' Entering the tavern, he made his way to the bar.

"Evening… if you're looking for a drink, beer's off. Plenty of whiskey, though" the attendant said, clearly bored.

"I'm looking for a woman, actually."

Snorting, the barman finally looked at him. "Who isn't?"

"A **particular** woman."

"Look around, boy, this place doesn't attract many women at all… go to the City, find yourself a brothel."

"I was told she travelled in this direction. Slightly shorter than me, black hair, green eyes-"

Noticing Carver's silver griffon ring and irritated glare, the barman thought for a moment. "Actually… sounds like Isabela. Yeah, she's been around." Grunting at his own unintended joke, he pointed to a far corner. "Looks like Artie's finally won her tonight. He's tried to wear her down for a week now."

"Tough luck for Artie…" Carver growled, crossing the room. "Sorry to interrupt, but she has to come with me now" he declared, standing over the pair.

"Piss off!" the man spat, turning back to his groping. Glaring at Carver's attempt to grab his arm, he stood up. "I been waiting my turn, you can do the sa-"

With a loud 'crack', Carver dropped him in a quick punch. "Let's go" he ordered the confused woman as she looked down at Artie, blood dripping from his mouth.

"A fight over little ol' me…" she slurred, "about time!"

"Oh, just get_ up_" Carver groaned, sliding an arm around her back to lift her up as she reached for her staff. Dragging her away, he stopped and threw some coins to the barman. "That's for the mess…"

Dazed from the sudden movement, she wobbled uneasily before finally managing to look at Carver. "… Wait, what are _you_ doin' here?" she asked in confusion, as her vision fell out of focus again.

"I'm** trying** to carry my surprisingly heavy sister out of this piss-trough…" he muttered, lifting her over the doorsill. "So would you please lift your feet when you walk?"

"You're the one tryna walk, yoooouuu do it" she replied, trailing off into a snore.

"… Unbelievable" he hissed, prying away their father's old staff before lifting her up over his shoulder. "Maker, Mar – you really did get **fat** living in Hightown, didn't you?" he exhaled jokingly.

"Oh sod off…" she shot back, before passing out again.

* * *

><p>Reaching the small hovel he'd rented, Carver found the door bolted and let out a groan. 'She better not be asleep…' Giving the door a quick knock, he shifted Marian's position on his shoulder. "Merrill! Open the bloody door!"<p>

A small commotion came from inside, before the door cracked open. "I'm sorry, I was getting changed and… oh, you found her! That was quick."

"Yeah, I finally lucked out" he nodded, sliding Hawke off his shoulder. "Here, give me a hand… just on the bed." Once they had her down, he rolled his shoulder over-dramatically.

"Nobody in the town remembered a Marian or the other names you said to try, when I asked around for her today… how did you find her?"

"I figured she had swapped names again by now, so I gave a description – she was calling herself Isabela, apparently… judging by the smell, she was _drinking_ like Isabela, too." Wincing, he held out his hand. "Can you heal this for me? Feels like I busted something…"

"It doesn't feel too bad" she said, lightly channelling energy into his hand. "What happened?"

Sighing, he flexed his fingers once she finished. "Let's just say she was acting like Isabela, so I may have had to convince her would-be friend to let her go… I think I broke the bastard's jaw."

"Oh no, is he alright?"

"… Hopefully not, no."

"But if he's her friend… oh – you meant **acting** like Isabela… never mind me. Shall we just leave her in here?"

Nodding, Carver moved a bucket over to the side of the bed. "Let her sleep it off, we can decide what to do tomorrow." Grabbing pillows and a spare sheet from the closet, he followed Merrill into the entryway. "Here" he offered the sheet and one of the pillows, "you take the bench." Adjusting his pillow, he laid on the floor.

Effortlessly spreading out the sheet next to him, Merrill dropped down. "I doubt the bench is any softer" she pointed out, "so the sheet may as well cushion both of us."

"I won't argue" he sighed as he scooted over.

"What's wrong?"

"Seeing her like that… even when our father died, she held together. With Bethany, too. I should have done more for her…"

"She understood you couldn't visit."

"I mean when everything in Kirkwall fell apart… if I had any idea what Anders had really meant when he sent me a letter, saying 'she would need my help in days to come', I'd have marched to Kirkwall during the night as well…" he muttered, thinking back.

_"Well I'll be damned" Varric kept muttering, staring at Meredith's new form as steam continued to rise off it. Mages and Templars were in similar disbelief, while eying each other cautiously for signs of renewed hostility. Aveline and … her husband, Ser Whoever, had run over to help me get Mar to her feet. We all marched through the streets in silence, back to her Estate. Gamlen, of all people, directed us on how to place her while someone found a physician to set her leg in place. I was playing cards with Gamlen and Charade, when Stroud and a few others arrived two days later, fire in his eyes._

"She wasn't even back on her feet, when they dragged me back to Ansburg and threw me in the cells for 'getting involved'…"

"You never mentioned being locked up."

"Probably would have simply been stuck on kitchen duty for the next ten years or so… until he found out about Anders. I don't know if he thought the Seekers would descend from on high and accuse us all of helping, but I got three months in the dungeon for vanishing without leave."

"You aren't worried, then? About what he'll do when you go back, I mean."

Frowning, he shook his head. "I'm **not** going back… I've spent most of my life running, and letting Mar carry everything by herself. I finally realised I was _beside _her, not behind… so it's well past time I stood my ground, and made up for all the shit I heaped on her." Blinking back a tear, Merrill smiled and snuggled up against him as he turned in confusion. "What?"

"You're a good man, _emma lath_" she whispered, before softly kissing him. "I'm glad to hear you say that, too… I spent nine years waiting for one of us to say something, so you better **not** leave." Watching her fall asleep, he stared at the ceiling waiting for his own slumber to take him.

_A good man? I sure wish I thought so… feels like everything I've done the last ten years has been about death and blood. _The sound of Artie gurgling on the floor briefly entered his mind, before it jogged the memory of someone else coughing up blood.

_There was always something I didn't like about that bastard… beyond his smugness and the 'oh, hi, I'm a stuck-up Princeling windbag who gets off from stringing your sister along' thing. I arrived as he was giving his rant about raising an army… Mar just listened to him, sadly, before holding out that knife she always carried. "I am not making him into a martyr for his lunacy. If his blood is so important to you, you take it… I need to go prevent another massacre" she told him, before leaving the two of them amongst the debris. Bastard was screaming at her back about how she was' no better than the rest of the accursed mages' the whole way._

_Everyone else just marched along with her silently, even Fenris, before they realised I was even there. I simply had to nod and fall in step next to her, and none of them even questioned it… at least, until we stopped at the Estate. While Marian was telling Gamlen, Charade and the servants to barricade the doors and go to the cellar, Aveline quietly pulled me aside. I was too distracted by Fuzz-Face hobbling over to sniff me and bark hello to even remember her questions… amazing how long that dog lived, especially with our lives. His age didn't stop him trying to protest when we left him behind, until she knelt down. "We'll handle this one, Fuzzy." He whined, as he always did. "I **know **you're still a warrior, boy – that's why you're going to make sure nobody scales the wall into the garden while we're gone. Chase them into a wardrobe again, if they try." He licked her face, and went out into the enclosed garden._

_Before we headed for the Docks, Mar stopped and gave everyone a last chance to back out… Aveline cut her off by saying her Guards would handle the City. Before the rest of us could say 'not a chance' to her, fucking Anders came staggering up and wanting to 'help'. "Sebastian simply walked away, screeching 'my return will set this right – and I will be not goaded by some misborn bitch into committing murder'…" Hypocritical little prig, considering how we even met him in the first place. I may not have been paying much attention to the words, all those things I went to Service when I knew Sister Leliana was going to sing the Chant, but I'm pretty sure there's nothing in the Canticles about 'murder's nice and moral if you pay someone to do it for you'. Cowardly creep just never could get his own hands dirty… except that one damned time._

_We finally made it back to the Estate, after leaving the Gallows. Aveline and Gamlen took over, shouting orders to keep everyone focused – Fenris to watch the street, Isabela to find a physician, Merrill to dig out the red lyrium shards from Marian's leg and do what little healing magic she could… I don't even remember if that Fereldan Warden or the slimy-sounding Elf who showed up at the Gallows were still around at this point. With all that distraction, we didn't have time to notice – until the creepy kid… Sandal? went out into the garden, and flew backwards inside a few moments later, bawling and pointing. I raced Aveline and Varric to the door, but I think we all knew exactly what had happened… Fuzzy was by the base of a tree, with a good eight or nine arrows through him. Another arrow was stuck in the tree itself, with a note. 'Now we both have nothing left' and a weird pattern – I still say those 'dragons' look more like three eels. "Starkhaven's emblem" Varric spat, crushing the paper. _

_"Nobody says anything to Hawke" Aveline said, glancing over at Bodahn to make sure he understood as well, "not yet…" She walked away and muttered something to her husband, who turned and left the Estate. I shot her a questioning look, but she just did her 'Guard-Captain on duty, so shut your gob' stare until I gave up. _

_Which was about when Isabela came back with "Old Walter, he fixes up injuries at the Docks" and directed Bodahn to show him up to Marian's room. Once they were gone, she looked around at us. "Big Girl was making her 'don't mess with this bitch' face when I came in – what's going on?"_

_Varric just cracked his head left and right, scowling. "We're going to find Choir Boy… and kill him." _

_She raised an eyebrow and turned to Aveline, who led her over to a window into the garden. "… Fucking rat bastard… he's so dead" she hissed, tightening the strap on her dagger belt._

_The Elf-Girl stuck her head out of the kitchen, where Sandal was still sobbing, with a stricken look on her face. "Is… is it true? Mistress' dog?"_

_"Get some water boiled, please" Gamlen gruffly asked, appearing from nowhere. "And try to calm the boy down… she's out cold, for the moment, but I don't want him waking her up." Rubbing his face, he turned to us. "If you're going to catch that piece of shit, you better move fast." Glancing at my heavy armour, he frowned. "Quite a task for you, boy… come on – your sister still has those chests full of odds and ends in the storage wing, and you need to travel light."_

_Selecting some leather armour, I looked about at all the junk in the side-room. "She still hasn't learnt to throw out anything, has she?" I half-heartedly joked, adjusting the boots. _

_"I'm still around, so no" Gamlen muttered, "but I suppose that's your sister… always thought things and people were worthwhile, no matter how dull or decrepit they seemed."_

_"Yeah… I'm just glad that mess up in the Vinmark tomb got us talking again. Family's family, right?"_

_"**Damn** right, my boy… look, I know I was a bastard years ago, when you arrived-"_

_"So was I, considering you took in the four of us when you barely had the room or food for it-"_

_He waved me down, "Just… let's talk about this when you've done the deed? And… make sure it** hurts**." As I turned to leave, he spoke again. "Leandra would have been proud, to see you today… I... shit, never was any good at this… well, we both know what losing a sister feels like, don't we? Go get that bastard, and I'll make sure you don't lose another one."_

_We finally found 'that bastard', two hours outside of Kirkwall and almost to the Vinmarks "Leaving without a goodbye? Better say it for him, Bianca" Varric whispered to himself… or maybe the crossbow, who knows with him? Two bolts through the kneecap dropped Sebastian into the dirt, as 'Bela and I charged in. He almost had his bow up, but she ended the threat with a boot to the face. While she kicked him in a few other places, ribs and … further down, I grabbed the bow by one end and planted a boot on the other – it was a bit tougher than kindling sticks, but it snapped just the same._

_"So, that bitch sent her little servants?"_

_"No" Varric replied, seemingly calm, as he walked up with Bianca locked and loaded. "She's still unconscious… remember that red lyrium, and what it did to Bartrand's manor? Meredith had it, and began… what would you call it? Making demons possess the courtyard statues to fight for her, I suppose. After we rooted out the one Blood Mage in the Circle, that is. Doing Meredith's job for her… again, and as usual Hawke was left wounded for her troubles."_

_"What, the Abomination is too busy bathing in blood to help?" he sneered in response, clearly ignoring the part about Meredith, spitting out a glob of blood._

_'Bela gave him another crack to the ribs, before shaking her head. "He wanted 'Justice', and he got it… she handed him over to Cullen, once it was all done. Right now, the Templars have him healing all the wounded from his handiwork… and after, I expect they'll do what Templars do best." Shoving her backwards, he pulled out Mar's knife and slashed towards her… but the dopey bastard didn't account for me; I reached down and wrenched his shoulder loose. He howled and carried on while 'Bela took the dagger and held it to his throat. "After they cuffed him in irons, she dragged Anders over to the remaining Mages. 'This man… is not a hero, or a liberator, or even an idealist. This man is a liar, coward, murderer... betrayer. This man's actions would doom you all, for the sake of his own vengeance; send you all to war over his own pain. None of it was done for you…' I don't know if she had more to say, she finally collapsed at that point, but she wanted to make sure they saw what he was. As she tried telling you, making him into some kind of martyr hero then and there was exactly what he wanted… but you've never listened to anyone but yourself, have you? Not even the Cleric, for all the noise you make about her now? Oh, the Big Girl had you pegged from the start – too wrapped up in your own misery to give a damn about anyone else… you're exactly like Anders, aren't you?"_

_"Spare me your empty moralising, and get it over with!"_

_Varric shook his head, and took aim. "'Spare the empty moralising'? … Hypocritical to the fucking end" he spat, putting a bolt between his eyes. Isabela directed us to carry the body and wedge it between rocks in the mountain pass, while she kicked the dirt back and forward to cover any prints showing there had been a struggle._

_Back in Kirkwall, Guardsman Boring, or whatever her new husband is called, stopped us in Hightown and whispered something to Varric. He nodded and told us to let him do the talking. "Don't we always?" was Isabela's response. We got back to the Estate, where Aveline was talking to the old Seneschal. _

_"No luck" Varric offered. "By the time we found him, he'd been ambushed up in the pass through the Vinmarks."_

_"I suppose it falls to me, to send word to Starkhaven" Bran sighed. "Thank you, Guard-Captain" he saluted, and left._

_'Bela waited a moment after the door clicked shut, and asked "If he asks me later, what's the story?"_

_Aveline stood up and shrugged, "You forgot already? We received rumours that Lady Harimann's old allies had men stationed here, in case Sebastian ever got serious about taking the throne. I guess they overheard his proclamation, and followed him into the mountains… damn shame, I always warned him about haphazardly throwing his privilege about, the way he did. Varric, you remember those rumours about those men?"_

_"Absolutely, Guard-Captain" he purred, a touch of menace still in his voice._

_"See? Varric hears everything in this town…" looking incredibly tired, she slumped back into a chair. "But it's all taken care of?"_

_"No sign we were there" Isabela replied, "and the boys stuck him up where the vultures will reach him first."_

_"Good. May they feast on his corpse..."_

_"And shit him into the ocean" I finished._

* * *

><p>Wincing, Carver half-heartedly brushed a hand across his cheek. Something touched there again, making him open his eyes in frustration. 'Is it morning already?' A finger entered the edge of his vision, tapping his face gently. "Hrrmm, stop it…what's going on?"<p>

"I think Hawke's awake… I heard something in there" Merrill murmured, with a sleepy expression.

Listening carefully, he heard something scrape across the floor. "She probably knocked the bucket over… which means-" he was interrupted by the sound of retching from the bedroom. "The morning chorus…" he groaned, sitting up.

"Where's my damned walking stick?" Hawke loudly croaked from the next room, while Merrill loaded a tray with fruit from the pantry. "My Pa left me that!" Shaking his head, Carver grabbed the ornate staff from where it had fallen the night before. Blinking at them in surprise when they entered the room, she rolled onto her back to face them directly. "Stop walking so loud" she groaned, glancing at the tray Merrill placed next to her. "So I wasn't imagining voices last night…"

"Hello, Hawke" she beamed, getting a tired wave in response.

"H'lo Merrill… not to be rude, but what are you doing here?"

"I know you said you wanted to be alone, when you left Kirkwall… but Varric and Isabela came to see me at my hut outside the city a few months ago, to say goodbye, and Varric said the Seekers had been looking for you. He thought you needed to know, or be warned, whatever you preferred…" Taking a quick breath, she continued. "But I had no idea how to find you, and Aveline's the only one from the old days still in Kirkwall, so I had to find Carver and hope he might figure something out… well, I don't want to ramble on, so it took us a few months before we found you."

Slowly processing the information, Hawke rubbed her brows. "… Okay, the Seekers are on the hunt – I got that part. Varric and Isabela left?"

"Something very hush-hush… nobody tells me anything after you left, I'm sorry" Merrill said, visibly crushed to be out of the loop. "I thought he might have known where to write you, but he wouldn't say either way…"

"The Seekers probably left someone to watch his out-going mail" Carver shrugged, walking over.

"That's a good point…" she considered.

"So that's everyone gone from Kirkwall, I suppose" Hawke muttered, taking a small bite of fruit.

"I think so, if Fenris is still on 'Bela's ship – I didn't see him… no, Aveline is still there."

"Of course… the stubborn old bitch."

Confused, Merrill hesitantly repeated the last word as if it would curse her. "… _Bitch_? Aveline?"

"Make her bloody Captain, and she up and refuses to even _consider _Carver… even though she's got openings left and right from all of Jeven's corrupt goons that she's throwing out." Twisting to look at him, Hawke continued. "I wouldn't have had to drag you down those damned tunnels… you could have stayed with Mother and I – I wouldn't have had to count on fanatics and madmen… and you certainly wouldn't have let Mother start seeing some maniac without knowing _everything _ about him…"

"We'll never know that… I probably would have done something stupid to ruin it all" Carver said, quickly snatching some grapes from the tray. "Like this…"

"Greedy bastard" Hawke grinned. "So you two tracked me all the way here?"

Smirking, he popped a grape into his mouth. "Please, Mar – Father taught us the same hiding tricks, of course I managed to find you. I just had to narrow the field."

"Well, don't let me interrupt your bragging… _how _did you narrow the field?"

"Orlais was obviously out, Ferelden is the first place people would look for you... since Father always said that people expect you to go to friends for help, and never go where they expect you to... so given that Antiva and Rivain were Isabela's stomping ground, and Seheron isn't worth considering, that left Nevarra… "

"You thought about it more than I did" Hawke replied. "But your plan was wrong – Merrill was from here, originally… right?"

"From what I remember" she nodded.

Scoffing, Carver pulled up a chair. "Doesn't count – they traded you to a Fereldan Clan for magic beans."

"_Beans_? No…"

"Ignore him, Merrill – it's an old kid's story… which probably means it's still his favourite book."

"Speaking of bad jokes…" Carver retorted, "I also remember how terrible Father's jokes were... so when people in Nevarra City heard your description and remembered 'Eileen, the woman with a scarred leg and fancy walking stick', I knew it had to be you."

She laughed hoarsely. "Can you believe nobody even understood the joke? I guess Nevarran fathers don't make stupid jokes..."

Staring at their amused faces in confusion, Merrill shrugged. "_Is _it a joke?"

"It's just something dumb our father used to repeat to make us groan - Eileen, the one-legged woman... because she leans." When the explanation just made Merrill's expression seem more puzzled, Hawke laughed again. "Forget it, I'm sure you didn't come here for bad comedy... even though I'm good at it."

"We also wanted to see you again" Merrill started. "I mean, yes; you said you wanted to be left alone, but things are going badly according to Varric and you might need us… you made sure not to listen when I thought I wanted to be alone, so I should do the same for you. Right? So I'm just going to keep following you around. If it's not a bother, of course."

"You win, Merrill… how about you, Carver? Got some noble reason to follow me about, too?"

"You're my sister" he simply replied, leaning forward to pat her shoulder.

Nodding, Hawke slid her hands under the blanket to push herself up… stopping halfway with a disgusted look on her face, her left leg quickly moving to one side. "… I threw up in your bed."

Sighing, he just squeezed her shoulder again. "… Definitely my sister."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thanks to everyone reading, and because I'm slow; my reviewers and Albino for the fave. Since I couldn't reply to 'guest': Thanks - I had to cut some of Morrigan's digs for being too far over the meta-knowledge border... she might be well informed, but not that much. Besides, Morrigan's more fun to write when reinterpreting events so she can insult her three least favourite people.<strong>_

_**This chapter almost went longer... but a Firefly reference is always a good point to stop. The remaining stuff might get recycled next chapter (I think I can get one more out of the set-up). The chapter title sucks, I know - drew a blank, so I dug out an old bird-watching book. It says a group of hawks is a 'Cast'... cue bad pun. I apologise for the Eileen joke, too.  
><strong>_


	4. Korin's Rest

**Nevarra, 9:40. One month later.**

* * *

><p>"Let <em>me <em>see the map, before it gets dark" Carver sighed, looking over his shoulder as the sun began sinking below the distant mountains.

Groaning, Marian leaned back in the wagon. "You watch the road, I'll keep the map."

"We passed that town the woman mentioned" Merrill said, glancing around as the path weaved through the woods. "But that feels like it was hours ago, now."

"It was…" Carver frowned.

"Don't blame me" Marian shrugged. "Dwarf-made maps always have skewed distances… and I'm not sure she was right in the head."

Supressing his sarcastic response, Carver turned his attention back to guiding the horse. "Yes, well, you better be right about this…"

"Trust me, brother – these little farms always need workers when the season changes. The old ones get bored and leave… it's like crop rotating, only with farmhands. It's how I had the money to get this far north."

"When you weren't drinking it away…"

Marian rolled her eyes. "Winter's a dead period, the further north you get. Plus I had to let you catch up."

"Oh, of course. How generous you are."

"Mutter, mutter, mutter…" Marian waved dismissively at his back. "Tell me, Merrill; was he this moody during your Hawke Hunt?"

"No. Well, during the day, but that was after spending hours asking around."

"What about night? Wasn't he dealing with all the drunks by then?"

"Some nights, but we'd forget about it pretty fast, once we… well, you probably don't want to hear about that" Merrill blushed.

"No, she doesn't" Carver coughed from his seat.

Looking back and forward, Marian gave a sly grin. "Yeah, let's skip the details… its weird enough knowing that the Dance Of Awkward is over. I guess Varric and I both owe Isabela 10 silver…"

Making an annoyed grunt, Carver looked back again. "Anyway… I've a question – what's Merrill going to do on this farm?"

"Botany and the like" Hawke replied.

"Botany?"

Merrill nodded. "Hawke used to have me check seeds and crops, for Hubert's friends. I think it was to get me out of the house, and so I'd have some money. It's not so different from herbalism, actually. Oh, and my fake name is Lyna."

"Come up with your name yet, Carver?"

"What's the surname you picked, again?" he asked.

"Hall. Leann Hall."

"… I'll be Maurie Hall, then" he replied. "Maurevar sounds a little… posh, I guess."

Sitting in silence for a few minutes, Merrill let out a bored whistle. "Should we sing a song?"

"Great idea!" Marian smirked, remembering a song she and Bethany used to repeat constantly, to annoy Carver as children. "I know a great song, for wandering the road!" Noticing his shoulders tense up at the mere suggestion, she turned to face Merrill. "It's called _Mabari in the Meadow_… how about we sing it together?"

"How about a game, instead?" Carver said, giving his sister a warning glare. "I know a really fun game… _Give Carver The Bloody Map_. Let's play that, shall we?"

"Have it your way… here, Merrill. You get to hold the map for a while, then you pass it to someone… but if you pass it to Carver, the game ends. It's best to stretch it out for a few rounds."

Glancing at the map, Merrill nodded and began whistling again. "How do we decide the winner?"

"The winner is the one who gives me the map" Carver said, holding his hand out. Once she cautiously handed it over, he smiled and then stuck his tongue out at his sister. "Congratulations, Merrill – you beat her!"

"Thank you" she beamed. "I almost never win."

Rolling her eyes, Marian watched Carver study the map. "We're looking for _Korin's Rest_, remember…"

"I'm pretty sure that's the river we passed earlier, so we turn right at this next crossroad… and we're there." He shook his head in frustration, before giving his sister a foul look. "You could have just told me that, instead of being an idiot."

Raising an eyebrow at the insult, Marian straightened up and flicked her hair back.

"_Where, where can he be? _

_Oh, please find for me_

_Our poor sweet Mabari_

_Find him, Maker, we beg thee"_

Hissing, Carver handed the map back to Merrill. "You better take this… she's busy being an idiot."

"Would you like to apologise, Carver?" Marian asked, in a phony sweet voice.

"No."

"_Hey hey hark nonny no_

_Oh, where did my Mabari go?_

_Wait … what do you know?_

_Look, look, in the meadow!"_

"It doesn't quite match" Merrill thought out loud.

"I'm probably remembering it wrong" Marian shrugged. "I forget the third verse… we were eventually banned from singing it – led to too many fights."

"So they'd whisper it at night instead" Carver added.

"No, that was _why _it got banned – Beth sung one stanza too many, one night, remember?"

"Right, right… I waited for her to doze off, and then I pinned her hair to the headboard with a fence-peg. A little **too** well, that time, as it turned out…"

"Why, what happened?" Merrill asked.

"She tried to climb out of bed before she realised, and tore out a clump from her braid" Marian answered.

"She starts screaming, waking everyone up..."

"Our father dragged Carver outside, after getting the truth-"

"I got a thrashing; she got a biscuit and hugs."

"I got frowned at for egging the situation on" Marian said as they turned down the farm's road, under the freshly painted _Korin's Rest_ sign.

"Pretty much how everything ended, back then" Carver sighed, before slowing the horse. "… Who did you say this woman was?"

"A Dwarf woman – said she was exiled from Orzammar. Had bought this farm recently, and needed workers."

"She had those odd Dwarven tattoos" Merrill added.

Marian nodded. "Oh yeah, she was Branded. So she probably stole the money for this place… which means she's avoiding attention as well. Why?"

"There's at least two Wardens up ahead… feels like they're in the main house."

"Wardens?"

Nodding, Carver stopped the horse as the door on the building ahead of them flung open. A hooded man stepped out, followed by the Dwarven woman Hawke had spoken with the previous week. Weapons drawn, they approached cautiously. "Just the big one, feels like" the Dwarf assessed, motioning the newcomers to get off the wagon.

Nodding, the man glanced into the distance. "The other two, they'd be the workers you spoke with?"

"The manager" she gestured at Hawke, before turning to Merrill. "And the botanist… so their Warden friend must be the farm-brute."

"**Ex**-Warden" Carver said as the man circled him, while throwing a questioning glare at his sister.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice" Marian shrugged, "I said you were the dumb muscle – I never said farm-brute."

"_Thank_ you, sister."

"_Ex_-Warden, huh? Okay, Brutus, you and I are gonna get your wagon into the carriage-house, and your Mage friends can go with her" the man interrupted, tugging his hood further over his face.

"Inside we go" the Dwarf ordered, spinning a dagger. "Seems you lot neglected to mention a few things, in the first interview…"

* * *

><p>"Just stick your horse in any of the stalls" the hooded man said, standing back as Carver unloaded the wagon. "So… your accent's a tricky one. Somewhere in the Marches, I'd guess. One of Stroud's?"<p>

"I was…" Carver nodded, not wanting to give much information in case the man would figure out who Marian was. "Our family travelled a lot, so our accent's from all over."

The man seemed to stare more intently, before speaking up. "You're clearly full of shit… yet I can't imagine Stroud sending _you _to find me. So what's your actual story?"

"Find you? I was at Ansburg for 9 years, I'd remember your voice if you had been there. So either you left a decade ago, and he would have given up by now… or **you're **full of shit."

Snorting, he started pulling back his hood. "Enough of this… " Staring at the oddly familiar face and now visible ears, Carver frowned as he remembered a portrait that had hung in Ansburg's main hall. "Now you're getting it… aren't you?" the Elf asked.

"…. You're the Wa-"

"That's right."

"… Well, **shit**."

* * *

><p>Drumming her fingers on the table, Sigrun looked back and forward between the two women. "Nothing, huh?"<p>

"Not until we see that Maurevar is safe" Marian replied icily.

"How about you, then?" Sigrun muttered, looking at Merrill. "Anything you'd like to say?"

"… I like your tattoos?" Merrill offered.

"Well, that's … a start. Thank you, I suppose. Your vallaslin isn't bad, either."

"Oh, you know about vallaslin?" Merrill asked in surprise, while Marian groaned.

"Yeah, we served with a Dalish mage. I had to learn the proper words pretty quick, Velanna was pretty touchy about her culture… and everything else."

"That figures – I never liked her, whenever our Clans met. Always thought she was better than the other Firsts."

"Yeah, that sounds like Vel."

"Does she still show off her burrowing trick?" Merrill asked. "I studied for years, just so I could do it too and make she stop bragging about it."

Shaking her head, Hawke tapped her on the shoulder. "**Lyna**…"

"What? … Oh, right – we're not talking to you until we see Maurie."

"Suit yourself" Sigrun replied, blowing some hair out of her face.

"Wait… if you know Velanna, does that mean you're a Fereldan Warden?" Merrill asked, after a moment.

Blinking, Sigrun looked back over. "Oh, you're **good**. I can see why they sent you – nice trick with the babyface routine."

"Nobody _sent_ us" Marian spat. "I don't know who you are, and I don't really care."

"I think you will" Carver said, entering the room with Darrian close behind. "Because guess who?"

"… Another Fereldan Warden?" Merrill offered.

Grimacing as recognition struck, Marian dropped her hands onto the table. "Not just any Warden…"

"Don't start with that" Darrian groaned, tossing over her staff. "Because I can totally gush over _you_, if Brutus was telling the truth."

"Figured out who they are?"

"Sig, this is none over than the Champion of Kirkwall."

Glancing up and down, Sigrun remained unimpressed. "Who we kept hearing about on the road? …. I don't see the big deal, looking at her."

"And your friend hardly looks capable of ripping off the Archdemon's wings with his teeth" Marian shot back.

"I always hated that version" Darrian smirked, holding out Merrill's staff for her to take. "Right then, supper! Then we can get all this straightened out..."

* * *

><p>Staggering out into the main room, Carver wiped his eyes. 'I almost forgot what a decent bed feels like…' Yawning, he sat next to Merrill. "Morning…"<p>

"Good morning! I decided to let you sleep, since they're just boasting."

Glancing at the other table, he finally noticed Marian sitting across from the erstwhile Hero. Both were slouched confidently, as they spoke back and forward.

"Crazy son of a nobleman, whose influence allowed him to get away with abducting and butchering Elven woman" Darrian offered. "Killed him."

Marian nodded. "We killed a Magistrate's son for the exact same thing. My turn – Wyvern… acid-spitting Dragon. Killed it."

"The Harvester… creepy secret Dwarven thing gone wrong – like bodies stitched together. Killed it."

"Never heard of it, doesn't count" Marian said dismissively.

"Sig! Harvester?"

Sticking her head around a corner, Sigrun nodded. "Golem made from corpses, and locked away for centuries."

"Fine… alright then. Rock Wraith. Monstrous things, far beneath most of the Deep Roads. Killed it."

Darrian frowned, before call ing out"… Sig? Rock Wraith?"

"I heard some of the older Legionaries mention them… so it's possible?" she yelled back from the other room.

"Hmm… Werewolves. Had to kill a few, before we found out how to break their curse" Darrian said.

Marian thought for a moment, before saying "Varterral. Giant-"

"Giant spider thing made by the Dalish. Yeah, I killed one too. How about Revenants?"

"Yep…and High Dragons – killed them."

Darrian paused in surprise. "A High Dragon fuelled by a Blood Cult – plus a nutty out bat, and Witch of the Wilds, who turned into a High Dragon. Killed them."

"Ha! No you didn't."

He looked at Marian in confusion. "… _I did so_! Had armour made from their skin and everything."

"Sounds like you mean Flemeth, and she's not dead. We met her after the Blight. Merrill?"

"Up on Sundermount – she told us some odd warnings, and flew away" Merrill said when Darrian looked over at her.

"See? Also, you can't really _kill_ a Varterral either" Marian grinned.

"Fine then… a talking Darkspawn Mage who wanted to use my blood to create more of his kind. Killed him, and his enemy."

"A talking Darkspawn Mage who wanted to use my blood to escape and… do Darkspawn things. He also claimed to be one of the Magisters who breached the Golden City. Killed him"

"… What?" Puzzled, Darrian looked across the room at Carver and Merrill, who both nodded.

"Corypheus" Carver added. "I later found out that watching his Tomb, up in the mountains, was a direct order from the First Warden to Ansburg. That's why none of the Marcher Wardens went to investigate Ferelden… they were ordered to make sure the possible Blight didn't wake him up."

"I always wondered about what was so important that they didn't come help…" Darrian muttered, scratching his chin.

"While we're on the topic…" Marian began. "Carver, was his Tomb why you guys couldn't help with the Qunari? That would actually qualify as 'more important', like Stroud said."

"No… we were tracking down some tainted Elf woman. Stroud never said how he knew about her but we eventually caught up with her, after she tried to unleash Blight sickness on a small village. Thankfully, only a few people died… we cornered her underground, babbling about 'I need to understand his research. I need to fulfil his research' while we killed her. I still have no idea what any of it was about…"

Giving Darrian a quick glance of understanding, Sigrun carried out a tray of bowls from the kitchen. "Sounds like you two were even… so have breakfast, instead."

Taking a bowl, Merrill looked over at Darrian. "Wait... you didn't say the Archdemon – **that** would make you win." Yelping as Marian kicked her shin under the table, she began eating.

"Don't get them going again" Sigrun sighed. "Besides, Loghain was the one did the killing."

"Turncoat fucking bastard" Carver muttered, taking a bite. "Whatever made you recruit _that _guy?"

Sighing, Darrian picked up a fork before answering. "Riordan said we needed him, and invoked Conscription when the only other Warden threw a fit over the idea."

"Someone had to speak against it…" Carver said under his breath.

"Don't mind my brother – he was at Ostagar, so he-"

Shrugging, Darrian looked up. "Fair enough… I usually get that response, or people saying 'the knife-ears should have died instead'."

"At least he's dead" Carver finally offered, in between mouthfuls. "That's something."

"Is Conscription what they did to you, Carver?" Merrill asked.

"Maybe… I was unconscious and incapable of saying yes or no, so I suppose it counts as Conscription. You ever do that to someone?" he asked, looking across the table.

"I only ever Conscripted one person… and we all know how well that turned out" Darrian shuddered.

Looking between each other, they all finished eating in silence. Dropping her fork, Sigrun stood. "I'll take Merrill to the seed-bins, and then Brutus and I will start on the fence repairs."

Kissing her lightly before she left, Darrian nodded. "We'll go over the inventory notes, then." Watching the three file out, as Carver complained about his nickname, Darrian lifted a box onto the table. "These are all the old bills and such from the previous owners… you were telling the truth about handling these for other farms?"

"Hurts too much to do a lot else on a farm" Marian said, motioning at her leg. "Not as light or nimble as I once was, thanks to the shards I had in my leg after that damned sword broke."

Taking a politely short glance at her scars, he resisted a wince. "Yes, Nate told me about the Gallows. An odd type of Red Lyrium, he said… I asked the Glavonaks, and Dagna, but they couldn't find anyone who knew about it."

"Good… I hope nobody ever finds the stuff again".

"We can only hope not… did you have trouble, getting hired at first?"

"Maybe a little…, and by the time I thought about using farm-work to hide, my lack of speed had made me… let's say plump. I dropped some of it, though I'll probably never be as slim as the Champion was, which does help stop people from knowing me." Stopping, she sighed. "But luckily I knew the basics from our farm back in Lothering anyway, so I bluffed the first few farmers into hiring me…"

"Good enough for me… and if this season works out, you're all welcome to stay as long as you want" Darrian offered, taking a handful of paper. "… Actually, if it works out… I may just leave the deed to you."

"Well, that was a quick decision…"

"I know… look, maybe it's just from being able to talk to someone who's gone through things similar to me, but… I don't know, kindred spirits? Maker only knows how long I actually have left before my Calling, so maybe I just want to know someone can handle this place… and that you'll not be thrown onto the road in a few years time."

"… 'How long you actually have left?' Is there something I should know, about Carver?"

"… Your brother never told you. Whoops… being a Warden, it shortens your life. I was told we got 30 years, after the Joining, but the man who told me that was a dimwit and not actually clued in on much Warden information. I've no idea if Joining during a Blight makes a difference, either… so I'm not sure?" he threw up his hands in a questioning motion. "I guess you can't save the world without a cost…"

'Bloody Carver… I bet he would have brought it up on his death-bed. _Didn't want to worry anyone, because I'm a tough guy! _He better have told Merrill, I don't want her being lied to about something like this…' Abandoning her thoughts, Marian nodded. "It's near-impossible to even save a city without bartering pieces of yourself… so this is why you're up here, in the middle of nowhere."

"I was warned the Seekers want me to fix their mess… maybe I'm selfish, but I've fucking done **enough**!" Calming down, he sighed. "I know _who _they would have sent to coerce me… and I gave her everything I had, once. She wants my soul as well, it would seem. All because the Divine asked her too… well, fuck the Divine!"

"If only someone _would_… she might ease up on the damnations" Marian joked, watching him uneasily.

"The way I hear it, she didn't mind the odd _earthly indulgence_, when she was a Revered Mother" he smirked darkly. "As for the Chantry itself… am I supposed to have some guilty sense of gratitude for the Sisters who stood by and did nothing when drunken rapists invaded a wedding and stole the bridal party, **bragging** about what they would do to them… that's what the Chantry gives my people. You probably know the feeling, right?" Darrian asked, motioning toward her staff.

"Nothing like that, but I've screamed my share of frustration, in the middle of the night… three unholy Mages in the family, and my mother still wanted us to be good little Andrastians."

"_Spread the Chant, Sister_… just don't sing the Verses about Shartan, because then we might have to apologise to the Elves! I never understood how Wynne could believe their garbage… I guess they just drum it into the Circle from a young age, _you're a horrible crime against the Maker… so be sure to praise his deadbeat arse for abandoning the world_." Taking another piece of paper, he continued. "Let the bloody Chantry fall… some idiots will just refound it eventually. Maybe they'll get it right next time."

"You can't save people who don't _want _to be saved… I ran around, propping up Kirkwall for years before I finally realised that. I'm with you… if the Chantry falls, it'll be from its own doing."

"So true… and thanks for listening to all that. Not many people seem able to understand the kind of things we've had to do, the weight of it, I suppose." After a moment, Darrian began reading the sheet in his hand. "Invitation to the 9:26 Nevarra City cattle auction…"

"If you hurry, you might make it" Marian laughed.

"Funny… we'll have some cattle soon. I sent a friend to buy some."

"You've got another friend hiding here?" she asked.

"I think you've met, actually…"

"Bodahn?"

"No… wait, how do you know Bodahn?"

"He was my valet for 6 years."

"Huh…" Smirking, he glanced at another sheet. "Did your little group have a sex-fiend who lacked focus if they spotted someone they wanted?"

"Had one…" Smiling at a memory of Isabela, Marian continued. "Speaking of… did your group have a dangerous, armed alcoholic?"

"Had one. A Dwarf who loved the sound of his own voice?"

"Had one. Someone who was obsessed with stories, and inventing ones about the group?"

"Had one…" Darrian trailed off, thinking about Leliana. "Someone… who claimed to love you, but was more devoted to the Chantry so it never stood a chance of lasting?"

"Oddly specific…" she sighed. "I'm afraid to say I definitely had one of those. Someone who claimed loyalty, but abandoned the group for not killing a defeated, unarmed man?"

"Had one… that's who I mentioned at breakfast. An unwanted son of nobility, who couldn't crying about whether to take up their banner since he was the only one left?"

"Had one. Maker, did we have one. I know you had a ranty Mage who knew best, couldn't shut up, and did whatever they wanted, regardless of consequences…"

"He wasn't like that, mostly, at the time – but with Morrigan, Wynne and Vel, I still had **three** of those, not counting Anders."

"Okay – an exiled Dalish First who would have been better off, had she just listened to the Keeper?" Marian asked.

"Had one. A moody giant, who had a big sword and no social skills… and was unusually paranoid about Mages, even by most people's standards?"

"Had one. An escaped slave, who wouldn't just shut up and enjoy his freedom?"

"… _That_ sounds like the Anders I knew. Guess I had one."

"Oh, mine would **kill** you for comparing the two of them…" Marian smirked.

"… A moody companion, with father issues, who joined because they had no other choice… but ended up being the most loyal?"

"Had one. I'm pretty sure I can win with this one" she proclaimed, putting a note aside after a brief look. "Since they merged _after_ he ran away, you didn't have one… a Mage with a Spirit in them?"

"Had one, with a Spirit of Hope, and they were both incredibly pompous" Darrian said with a grin. "Someone had didn't realise the Fade was obviously the Fade, and wouldn't listen to you?"

"Had a couple… you were in the Fade?"

"A couple of times – the first time, we had a Sloth Demon trying to trick us. Myself and one of our Mages knew it wasn't real, though."

"Sounds familiar. Did the others turn on you, at the Demon's command?"

"No. But Wynne wouldn't listen to me when I pointed out it was the Fade… despite being one of those ranty, _superior_ Mages I mentioned...**and **she had the Spirit already, by this point. Still wouldn't have realised it was the Fade, even if a Desire Demon had chosen that moment to pinch her on the arse."

"Was it a strong Demon? Since she couldn't realise…" Marian shrugged.

"Not overly strong… I'm pretty sure it actually got my intended dream mixed up with one of the others. Dumped me in what was meant to be Weisshaupt, with the man who Conscripted me. Where the Darkspawn were all dead forever, so we would sit about knitting clothes and talking about great it was to be a Warden… that would have worked on the other Warden. Me? I walked up to Fake-Duncan when he said we'd be story-keepers, or whatever, looked him in his eye and said 'You do that… this place is too bloody cold, and since you don't need any more fighters, I'm going home to Denerim'. The illusion fell apart while the minor Demon was trying to think what to do… so I gutted it while it was distracted."

"The other Warden… the King? He got your fantasy?"

"I think so… I walked into a house to find him, and the sister he had never mentioned, or even met." Wincing at the memory of Goldana, he continued. "She turned out to be a bitch, in reality, but I actually knew and missed _my _family in Denerim… so I'm thinking our fantasies got swapped somehow. Sloth Demons are lazy themselves, right?"

"That's been my experience. Aveline fit your last two descriptions… overly self-assured Warrior who couldn't ever admit they were wrong?"

"Had one, at the end for a while… I think I mentioned Sten already, but… a Qunari?"

"Had a Tallis, briefly." Bethany's face flickered in her mind, as she read a receipt for a tailor. "An incredible, brilliant woman, who was taken away far too young?" she asked sadly.

"Mhairi… yeah, she deserved so much better, from the little we got to speak." Shaking slightly, he looked up and out the window. Watching Carver struggle with a large armful of wooden planks, he smiled softly as Sigrun stood by the cutting stump, making a show of tapping her foot impatiently. "… A funny, gorgeous, lovable Dwarf?"

Following his gaze, Marian turned in time to see Carver standing on one foot with a pained expression, as he pointed at his other foot. 'I bet he tried to carry far too much wood again… clumsy oaf.' Sigrun simply shook her head and pointed authoritatively at an axe between them on the ground. "Had one, if I count Varric… but I didn't love my Dwarf the way you seem to" she said, watching him daydream.

"Hmm? Oh, ignore me – it took us years to admit it, so we're still in the 'new love' phase."

"Have two like that" Marian joked, pointing out another window.

He stood and leant over to look, noticing Merrill seated on the ground outside the barn as she occasionally glanced up to watch Carver chopping wood, in between holding seeds up to the sun to inspect them. "So I see…"

"My turn… umm." She turned back to watch Carver. "Someone you were torn between keeping, and strangling because they moaned every step of the way?"

"That could be a few people… do they also make stupid jokes?" Darrian asked.

"They've been known to."

"Then I'll go with Finn. Had one. An amazing, loyal, smart Mabari?"

"… You stole my Mabari?" she quipped.

"No – but everyone's Mabari counts for that one. Okay, a proper one – did your group have a Golem?"

"At one point. Had one."

"But was it a depressed, talking Golem obsessed with killing birds?"

"… Now you're just making shit up!" Marian declared.

Grinning, Darrian replied "Her name was Shale, thank you."

"Shale? … You know, at least that's not as bad a Golem name as Thaddeus Crumbum the Third."

"… **What**?!" Seeing his dumbstruck face, Marian dropped her paper and burst out laughing.

"It was the _stupidest_ thing I ever heard!" she snorted. "But the owner was so… **earnest **about it!" Laughing as well, Darrian shook his head. "No, no, wait… it was Thaddeus _Gigantus_ Crumbum the Third! I've no idea what happened to the first two! He was so creepy and dangerous we had to leave his shop before we joked about it!"

Wiping his eyes, Darrian leaned back in his seat. "Shall we call it a draw?"

"You didn't make me laugh like that… but okay."

"Get Sig to tell you about the time Oghren convinced Velanna that Dwarves hatch from rocks… She'll tell it better than I can. I wasn't the funny one – that would have been…" he trailed off as a horse rode up to the house.

"Zevran?" she said in confusion, seeing him dismount.

"Yeah, it was probably Zev" Darrian said, before looking out the window. "Oh, that's why you said Zevran. Right. He's back early."

"Indeed I am" Zev boasted from outside the door. "They agreed to deliver the cattle themselves, since we know nothing about leading a herd across the countryside. Next week, perhaps."

Going over to greet him, Darrian nodded. "Good, good – our new farmhands should have things ready."

"I noticed two out there... I'll introduce myself later" Zev said, hanging up his cloak.

"Carver... call him Brutus, he'll _love_ it, is the one chopping wood, and Merrill's sorting seeds."

Pausing in surprise, Zevran looked at his old friend. "… Merrill, you say?"

"Recognise the name?" Darrian asked, before motioning over his shoulder. "And someone you should definitely know…"

"Zev... good to see you again." Marian waved.

Surprised, the former Crow gave a slight chuckle. "The Seekers would no doubt pay a small fortune to find _either _of you… and here we all are! What are the odds, I wonder?"

"The odds? About the same as _anything_ we did, back in the day" Darrian replied, going back to the table. "If you want to relax a while, help her sort the paperwork. Grab a handful of sheets and see what's what."

"Ah, you've finally braved the Box of Confusion! Very well" he sat down next to Marian, offering a warm smile. "I'm always willing to help a beautiful woman get on top of troublesome sheets… not to mention under them."

Rolling his eyes, Darrian took note of her pleased blush before scooping up the bowls from the other table. "I better get these done" he coughed, leaving the room.

* * *

><p>"I think that's the guy who showed up at the Gallows" Carver said, cautiously eying Zevran through the window as he sided up to Marian. "What do you know about him?"<p>

"Zevran? We met him a few times… I guess you'd say he's like Isabela, only with different… parts. I think Hawke _liked_ him – but she was still trying to make things work with Sebastian."

"A male Isabela… Maker save us." Scratching his head, Carver gave them another look. 'Down, boy – she can decide for herself… and he can't be worse than any of those drunken bastards on the road. She must have been getting so stinking drunk just to stand touching them… just to endure the people willing to ignore her leg, just for comfort.' "Huh… I suppose if you and Mar trust him, that's enough for me."

Walking past with a wheelbarrow full of wood and tools, Sigrun whistled softly. "You're a brave man, Brutus… Ancestors know I wouldn't let him near _my _sister."

"So I'm the laughing stock already… why does it always happen?"

"Because you're too easy to get" Sigrun replied. "Now come on, we've got the western fence to repair. You alright there, Merrill?"

Nodding, she pointed at one of the seed boxes. "This container would be… rapeseeds, I think."

"… Well, I'm not letting_ those_ near my imaginary sister either" Sigrun joked, glancing up at Carver and pointing at the wheelbarrow. "You tall folk sure come up with the strangest names for things."

"Yeah, I know" Carver agreed, grabbing the wheelbarrow.

Listening to their conversation as they passed under a nearby window, Darrian turned his attention back to the bucket full of dishes. 'It might get dull… but I get the feeling life's going to be far from boring.'

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: So ends my head-canon for these two play-throughs... barring any sudden urge down the track to write another chapter, or big plot-points from Inquisition, I suppose. For now, this is where they vanished to.**_

_**Thanks for reading - a big thanks to Melysande, AlbinoWings, 'Guest' Lord Hydra and Bert.**_


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